


For Safekeeping

by priggishbitch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Fluff, I apologize in advance, Love, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, but like its sweeter shae, look shae is in it, sansa is aged up because it all just feels much weirder if sansa is 12, sansan, she actually isnt a frigid bitch and she loves sansa cause shes a baby, speaking of babies, this will be without a doubt a strange and uncomfortable mixture of book and show canon, yknow, you're going to have to guess what is from which because i have no regard for other people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priggishbitch/pseuds/priggishbitch
Summary: Sansa Stark had lived a simple life, so far. Every step she took was plotted out for her very carefully and she had enjoyed it. She was a Lady, and she would be married to a Lord, a brave Knight who would protect her. He would be so gallant they would write songs about him. It had been such a very painful shock when she found out none of it was true. As far as she could tell, the last gentle Lord had died on the steps of the Sept of Baelor. There had been no such thing as true Knights and there was no single man she feared more than Sandor Clegane, until he had saved her.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Essentially the same story that's been written no fewer than 8000 times, Sandor saves Sansa and takes her away on the night of the Battle of the Blackwater. I make no guarantees that this will be longer than four or five chapters but I already have three of them written and ready for posting so there is that news. I hope you like it.





	1. Ashes In Your Mouth

> _"I was wrong, I was entirely wrong about him. You don't know him, papa. If I told you what he's really like, what he's done..."_  
>  **Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice**
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

 

      I could still feel the ache deep in my bones, a great wrenching pull that twinged whenever I moved my legs or arms. Every time I stood I nearly fainted, from pain, from damage, from the worst headache I'd ever had, that covered the front of my head and face. It would be hard to look pretty with the gash that ripped across my scalp.  
The man had been so close, so very, horribly close to pushing into me. It felt as if the whole world had focused in on me. Everything I saw had gone black around the edges, making everything dark and blurry. It was a whirl of dull color, and pinching, and yanking. It felt as if they would crush my wrists and calves to dust. I had never been very strong, but it seemed as if what little strength I had, was being drained out of me and into their hands.  
      Then he had come. A blessed savior, dressed in white plate. It wasn't often that someone frightened me more than the Hound, but when I locked onto his face, I felt relieved. Something I would have not anticipated in my life, however short it might be now, was that I would be grateful to see Sandor Clegane. As he hoisted me above his head, I felt myself give up trying to stay conscious and let him and the dark take me. I could not remember anything after he said that it would be okay, until I'd been laid so gently against the pillar.  
      Soft hands had prodded me, checking for damage, before they lifted me to my feet. I hadn't felt the pain then, I walked easily despite the trembling that threatened to take me over. Shae had been waiting for me, already readying a steaming hot bath, filling it with my favorite oils. I wanted desperately, still wanted even now that I was out, to immerse myself and lower my head under the water and stay, until I felt clean. Until I felt nothing.  
Shae had run her fingers through my hair, pulling the pins and clips that shaped it. Every time she started anew, I flinched. She set her hand on my shoulder and started to brush away the knots. I cringed away with every stroke. I was so grateful to her, for being so blessedly soft, but soon I couldn’t bare it any longer.  
      "I'll do it myself, Shae. I can't.. Its not... Just, can I do it, please?  
      "Yes, m'lady. You wish to bathe on your own as well?" The concern in her voice was palpable, which made it all the worse.  
      I turned halfway and gave her a gentle lady's smile, nodding. Most days I felt guilty for snapping at her the way I had on that first day. She had been sweet and protective of me since, like she knew what it was like to be trapped, in fear for your life every moment of every day.  
"Alright, m'lady. I'll wait outside. Bar the door and knock when you're done. I'll see to that cut."  
     The shaking returned as soon as she closed the door behind herself. It was so fierce that I struggled with my ties and laces. I was so frustrated, I settled to ripping it apart the rest of the way instead. It was already ruined and I didn't want it anymore, so what was the point in preserving it, really. I stepped and pulled and yanked and tore until it had almost dissolved in my hands. I was left with a small pile of silky fabric strips shredded on the floor.  
      It was only as I stepped into the bath that I felt it. Pain had rushed into my ankles so violently that I nearly cried out, but I didn't want to alert Shae, so I whimpered and bit it down. When I brought my foot above the water line, the bruises were immediately evident. Large, dark purple hand shaped welts, wrapped nearly all the way around my calves on both legs, and a lighter covering mottled my forearms. None if it would scrub away, though I tried until my skin was raw and red all over and the water had run cold. I was numb to it by then. I shivered myself into my dressing gown and unbarred the door.  
     She came in and laid gentle hands on my face, turning me side to side and inspecting the wound.  
      "It will leave a scar, m'lady. But it's right at your hairline. It won't make you less beautiful and it'll be easy to hide. I'm going to clean it now. This will hurt." She said that like it was a compliment, a good thing.  
      "I don't want to be beautiful anymore. I thought... in the middle of it, I thought it might be a blessing. I could endure it and then I'd be unfit to wed Joffrey. He wouldn't want me anymore."  
      "Oh, lady. You're right. You would have been unfit to wed Joffrey, but you would remain a fit plaything. He will never give you up as long as he has a choice. He enjoys having you to hurt. That just would have made it easier for him."  
      "The Hound, he saved me. He came back for me when no one else did. I should thank him."  
      "Thank him as you will my lady, but don't expect him to be kind about it. Are you hurt anywhere else?"  
      "Only a little, on my legs and arms." She reached to check them, running her fingers along the nasty things. It looked as if my limbs were rotting away. I wished they would. End it all, end me now. "You'll survive these, little one. No permanent damage done. You go to rest now. I'll be back in the morning. I fear it will be a very long day."  
It had only been moments after she had left me when a gentle knock came. Whoever it was, was not Shae, as they didn't let themselves in. So I limped to the door, taking care of every movement. I pulled on the heavy handle and it creaked away from the wall, opening to a picture of the Hound, still dressed in his armor though I was sure he was no longer on duty.  
      "Came to check on you, little bird. How is that head?" He nodded in the direction of my forehead and looked as if he was about to grab my chin to examine it, before he thought better and forced his hand to his side, squeezing a tight fist once and then once more.  
      "I'm alright, thank you. I'm grateful. You came back for me when no one else did. I'd be dead, or worse if it wasn't for you."  
      He grunted in response, which I'd been expecting, as he wasn't one for compliments.  
      "They get you anywhere else before I got there?" His eyes swept down my figure, not in a hungry way like some men do, but in an assessing way, checking me for wounds and damage. "I'd have prevented it sooner if I could."  
      "There are some bruises," I held out my wrist, the ever darkening patch of skin was evident even in the dim of a couple of candles that barely lit the room, this time he didn't not stop himself and held my arm gently in his freezing hand. "But Shae says it will all heal."  
      "You should see a maester, girl. I can fetch one, if you like."  
      I shook my head and took my arm, covering the bruises with the sleeve.  
      "I don't want... I don't want to be touched. The maester, he'll... when he examines me, he'll touch me and I'm not... I don't want to be touched."  
      "Aye, girl, I'll leave it be then. Be careful with yourself." He nodded and started to turn on his heel, as his back faced me, the terror rushed back in, weighing me down so heavily.  
      "Please don't go." My own voice had surprised me. I had naught but had the thought before it left my mouth. "I don't want.. I don't want to be alone. I'm scared."  
      "That's a bad idea, girl. You're beloved king wouldn't like to find his maiden sharing space with his dog."  
      "I'm not girl, I'm Sansa. Call me Sansa. And please don't leave me. You can stay out of the door if it please you, or you can sit there, at my table. Just until I fall asleep. Please?"  
      "Sansa. There was a time when you would be asking someone else to keep you company to avoid nightmares of me. Bloody world is turning upside down. Aye, I'll stay girl, but you had better fall asleep fast, I don't have all night to be hanging 'round your room."  
      I felt a true smile light up my face, maybe not a big one, but a real one none the less and stepped out of his way. His weary, ever distrustful eyes glanced around the room before he took one and then two steps past me. The vanilla and lavender scents still permeated the air around me, relaxing.  
      The Hound was grumbling and grunting and muttering to himself under his breath, and I knew it was not aimed at me, for when he was lecturing me, he always looked me unflinchingly in the eye.  
      "Well, go on, get it on with, girl. I've no time to waste."  
      It was confusing mostly, considering I knew he wasn't on his shift, and mostly had nowhere to go but bed, but I consented anyway and began to untie my robe starting to pull it off when he spoke again.

      "Seven hells, little bird. Give a man a warning for fucks sake." He growled to me, turning loudly, clanking his armor together. Had he not just told me to go on? He was whiplash in human form. Rushing one way one moment, and returning violently in the next.  
      I felt the bright red blush climb from my stomach up to my scalp and back down to my toes. "I'm sorry, I... I'm going to take off the robe and get in my bed, I'll let you know when I'm under the covers."  
      I took the robe off slowly, watching him while I did it. The Hound was a curious man, a creature all his own, a mad dog that bit every hand that tried to pet it. His shoulders and neck looked so tense under all of the weight, I felt immediately guilty for asking him to stay. Of course he wanted to be done. He wanted to bathe and sleep, he looked so tired. Even from behind. I tried so hard to suppress the desperate whimper that escaped my mouth despite my efforts as I climbed into bed. Shooting pains had run all the way to my hip bones.  
      That was when the crying started. It came upon me so suddenly, so utterly without warning that it scared me. I was all tears and snot and gargly, unladylike noises from the back of my throat. I couldn't bring myself to care if I sounded like a lady right then anyway. I let it rush, crash over me like waves rolling me back into a deep sea of pain and despair, I could have drowned in it. I was so distracted by my own noises than I didn't hear him turn and come to me, the distraction that was my general lack of clothing, only a silky, thin, sleep shift, was no longer a factor. He had apparently decided to overcome this particular boundary.  
      Freezing armored hands clasped my cheeks and he gave me a genuinely terrified look. "Where's it hurt, girl?"  
      "My ankles," I managed between genuinely pathetic whimpers, "the men when they grabbed me, it was so tight."  
      "I'm going to look at it, Sansa," he added my name as an after thought. "Don't panic."  
      I wouldn't have even if he hadn't warned me. "I wont. I trust you."  
      A look crossed his face, lost and a bit tired, before he pulled my ankle away from the bed, so gently I nearly didn't feel him, and lifted the hem of the shift. He made a horrible noise, a noise that would have terrified me any other day, somewhere mixed between a violent growl and a wail of despair, before he laid his own hand over the hand print that seemed branded onto me. His fingers dwarfed that of the ones on my leg, covered it completely.  
      "It hurts when you move it?" He asked as he grabbed the heel of my foot and gently moved it around. Testing to see if it still worked. I let out a wounded cry as he bent it down and he immediately released me, as if I'd burned him. "I don't think it's broken, or you'd be hurtin' a lot worse. It'll heal but it'll probably take a few days. Ask your handmaiden to help you around, we don't want to make it any worse." We had sounded very nice the way he said it, like someone other than me cared what happened to my too thin chicken legs.  
      His hand wrapped around my ankle again, like I was China doll that would break in his grasp, and perhaps I was. Perhaps I might. He leaned in toward the bruise for a fraction of a second, I thought he might almost kiss it. The idea sent my head whirling again, spinning the room around me.  
      "I'm a little dizzy, too. Everything looks kind of different. Like it's covered in a layer of peach fuzz."  
      His hands moved back to my cheeks and he looked directly into my eyes, looking as if he was searching for something in them. Something to tell him how he might fix it.       His face was rent with worry lines when he finally released me, after what seemed like the longest moment of my life. He set a heavy hand on my knee before he picked up my leg and laid it gently on the bed, lifting and maneuvering me around the bed, pulling my sheets and blankets away before bringing them back to tuck me in. It was strangely parental, but sweet somehow. He leaned over me once more, again I thought he might kiss me, a gentle one on my forehead, a comforting gesture, but instead he pulled away, straightening up and clearing his throat.  
      He moved around the room, blowing out candles, leaving only one at the center of my table, which he settled himself next to, crossing his arms over his chest, one leg against the chair and the other extended.  
      "Sleep now, little bird. It'll all be better in the morning."  
      With the Hound keeping vigil, I felt more safe than I had since before my father had been executed.  
      "Thank you, Sandor." I whispered, and I hadn't thought he'd heard me until he replied almost inaudibly.  
      "I didn't do it for you." Somehow, somewhere inside of me, I didn't believe him. I slipped easily into the darkness, and let it cover me all over, safe, if only for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so for anyone who's reading this and cares, I changed the original chapter title. Specifically, they're all quotes that were threats or said in anger but coming from these characters they're meant to be sad and more like promises. He'll do his best to protect her and make sure her happiness stays in tact, kind of? I'm not sure how to explain but yeah.


	2. Full of Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no idea why its spacing out that one line like that but i can't fix it so im not gonna!!!!!!!

> “ _I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun._ " **Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice.**

* * *

 

  
  
      She was a little thing when she was awake and she looked even littler now, swaddled in her blankets and curled away from the world, curled towards me. I could nearly fit my entire hand around her ankle, it was a wonder they didn't snap in half every time she put weight on them.  
      It hadn't taken long after she'd laid down for her hair to turn into a rat’s nest, not that it detracted from the general splendor that it was. But it knotted and tangled, all the way through and I was resisting the most uncomfortable desire to run my fingers through it to get them all out. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd have let me if I'd asked. Something had changed, it was obvious to even me, some great shift in the landscape of our world.  
      Where before she couldn't even stand to look at me, all anger and hatred as I was, she was turning to me for comfort now. Some twisted joke of fate, I guessed, putting within arm’s reach something that was wholly inaccessible. Vaguely, whatever Tyroshi torture trap the Mad King had used on her uncle came to mind. The further I struggled, the harder I reached out, the more it squeezed the life out of me. I was being drained of it all, I was going soft.  
      I suspected growing old had started the shift, not that I was well and truly old, old for a soldier, certainly. Most of us never lived very long at all, most of us died on the field, and I dwarfed the boys who fought now in both height and age. Aches addled me from every direction, the weight of armor and weapons sitting constantly on one’s body did a number. Parts of me that had once moved like a well-oiled cog, creaked a little, as if they were arguing against the movement. Not that it stopped me, I’ll be honest. I wasn’t one of those flowery ass sons-of-bitches who let a little pain stop them. I plan on fighting until it either kills me or I get so useless I finish the job for myself.  
      She was well and truly asleep at the point, I’d take a minute to look at her again, and go back to the real world. Her features were scrunched up in a look that was deeply unpleasant, she was uneasy, even in the safest place she could be, high atop a castle, littered with guards, though, aye, most of them were beyond useless, and me at her heels. I knew what it felt like to be eaten away by something from the inside out, were similar in that respect, and I regret deeply that she should have to feel that sort of dull, throbbing pain as well. It seemed unfair, it seemed cruel of whatever fucking gods there might be, to treat someone so gentle and soft and kind as her, the way she had been treated. I wouldn’t say no one deserved to be treated that way, because there were a few cunts that came to mind. But she was not one of them.  
      I shook my head to break whatever sort of trance I was in, the kind that she put me in, that I both loathed and coveted all at the same time, the kind that made me feel dull and weak, like some bloody little lordling’s training sword, and stood. My legs didn’t want to cooperate, but I forced them to march all them same. Over the din my bloody blasted armor made I barely heard her, she was whimpering again, the worst possible noise. It wasn’t ladylike, or dramatic as some ladies were wont to be, it was a genuine, fear laden noise and it wrenched straight through me. She was making me gutless, this girl. I stood stock-still, willing my armor to shut the fuck up and let her sleep, but the fear only got louder, and she had started to yell. I nearly yelled myself when she shot straight up out of bed and yelled, “NO!” at the top of her lungs.  
      If you’d have told me two years ago that a teenage girl would make me near piss myself in fear, I’d have cut your fucking head off and fucked your rotting corpse, as gross as that sounded. I was good at threats, never good with following through on the grotesque parts of them, but generally, when you’re as big a fucker as I am, you don’t need to follow through on your threats because people do as you ask. I felt the laughter before I heard it, erupting out of me. It was a great barking laugh, the kind that were so rare for someone in my position.  
      “You scared me, little bird, well and truly scared me. Are you alright?”  
      Her eyes were wide as saucers as she assessed me and a look crossed her face, ambiguous enough that I thought she may start crying, when she fell into the most ridiculous fit of giggles I’d ever heard in my entire life. I don’t remember the last time I made a girl laugh, a real laugh, that hadn’t been polite or bought and paid for. I felt almost like I might blush. The sound was sickeningly infectious, and I couldn’t stop the laughter that came from me once more, and we were there, caught in the most surreal moment of my life, suspended in time.  
      It took her a few minutes to calm herself, taking deep breaths to stop the nigh on uncontrollable laughter, but she did and laid down, covering her eyes with her arm, bruises on full display. “I’m not but barely seven and ten, and I, Lady Sansa Stark, who has never scared a person in her life, scared the Hound. I scared the great Sandor Clegane. The world is going mad, you were very right.” She started to laugh again, gentler than before, but it morphed and twisted before my eyes into something much worse. It had been wholly unexpected and yet I had somehow seen it coming anyway. She was shaking, crying so quietly that it felt like it might kill me.  
      I was torn between my two usual warring emotions: face the danger head on or high tail it out of the door and find safety somewhere, away from this horrible picture. Leaving would have been easier and decidedly safer, but somehow, I couldn’t tear myself away, and instead found my feet moving forward on their own, and I sunk into her overly soft bed, like it was trying to swallow me, and pulled her up, cradling her more carefully then I’d previously believed myself capable. To both my delight and displeasure, she curled further into me, firmly settling the crown of her head under my chin, match-stick thin fingers scrambled at the armor, trying to find purchase where there was none, before she moved them to the crook of my neck and shoulder. It was simultaneously the most pleasant and horrible feeling I’d ever experienced. The war in my head, to abandon this girl who would so readily get my head lopped off or to comfort her, something I’d never had to do before.  
      She was scraping and squeezing at me, like she feared I might dissolve into air. But she had caught me, unprepared and with no defenses against her, she had caught me. I was trapped now, I knew, in her gilded cage with her. I could barely think about leaving the room, let alone following through on leaving the capital. It had been a plan, not even fully hatched, but it was wasted now. I would stay, I had to, because no part of me was willing to leave this strange, little creature behind. She cried, and cried, and shook, and cried some more. Her tears were all but spent when she started apologizing.  
      “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” She repeated it over and over, each time brought a sting to my eyes.  
      “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, girl, you didn’t start all this. Not one second of it was your fault.”  
      “I would fix it all if I had any power, I want it to be better. But I’ve got nothing, I’m nothing. I wish they’d just killed me, at least then I’d be free of this seven forsaken prison.”  
      Anger flashed white and startlingly hot through me, and I wanted to shake her, but I resisted the urge. “Don’t you ever say anything like that ever again. At least if you’re alive you’ve got a chance to get out of here. Joffrey won’t live forever, little bird, and you’re going to live to see that day if it’s the last damn thing I do.”  
      “They hated me. They’ve never even set eyes on me before and they truly hated me.”  
      “Aye, they did, but it doesn’t matter now. They’re gone, dead and rotting away and you’re safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.”  
      “I should have listened to my father when I still had a chance. He told me, he tried to take me away from Joffrey. He said he’d find me someone better, someone good and strong, who’d keep me safe. I wish I hadn’t been so stupid. I was so stupid. Such a stupid little girl. Maybe he’d have...” She seemed to be thinking through how to say something, considering how safe it would be, “Never mind. Never mind. Thank you, for taking care of me.”

      “You don’t have to be scared to say it, girl, I can’t exactly run to the king and turn you in for being a traitor, considering my current position."

      “I was going to say, that maybe he would have found someone like you.” She had stunned me into a perfect silence. _Could have taken me home. Found me a very pretty knight. Not had his head removed._ Of all the ways I could have expected her to finish that sentence, that had not been one of them.  
      Her shaking had stopped, finally, and she wiggled around for moment before she settled again, with her face, and her delicate little nose pressed up against my throat. It was only then I remembered just how little clothing she had on, how thin and sheer it was, how bad it would have looked if someone had walked in the door right at that moment. They’d kill us both without a second thought, but I couldn’t bring myself to set her down regardless.  
      I did not possess the courage to tell her I fit only half of her checklist, I could not dash it all away now. It took her only a few more minutes to sleep once more, emitting the most ridiculously girlish snores against the skin she clung to. It was all so overwhelming. What in the world could possibly be happening in this moment? The Lady Sansa Stark, the daughter of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was cuddled to me for protection from her fears, seeking me out in the middle of darkened rooms to keep her safe. I was almost certain this was some sort of dream, that I would wake up, alone, tired and aching in my bed. But she was real, and she overwhelmed my senses. All flowery smelling and soft and red and gentle, she was a ceaseless invasion of my mind.  
      She was truly lost to me this time, no dreams causing her pain, so I settled her in once again, pulling her blankets up to her chin like some sort of damnable nursemaid. I hadn’t even bothered to look at her body, to glance at her or think about her inappropriately. She was taming me, and it was terrifying to behold.  
      Her feel and her smell stayed with me as I crossed through the echo filled stone halls, she was a ghost haunting me on my walk home. I was two sides of one coin, one side hated Sansa Stark and all she was, weakening me and burrowing her way in the center of me and the other side wanted to run back, to be a true knight, like she talked about, shiny and silver and meant to save her. I could though, I could save her. During the battle, maybe I could leave after all, and maybe, just maybe, I could take her with me. It would be enough to get her home, to safety, for good. Out of the way of all this evil.  
      I thought it through as I took each plate apart and tucked it in its spot near the foot of my bed, propping my sword against the wall. It would take a bit of planning, but I figure I could acquire what we might need over the next few weeks. I fell asleep that way, smelling of Sansa Stark, and planning what may be her very last chance to escape. I could do this. I could do it for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at writing out all of the depressing things I want to, but I'm pretty okay with writing humor, so the funnier parts come easier to me. I have four chapters already written and two more outlined, so it'll probably hit 8 and maybe a teensy epilogue if I can manage it. If you see any errors or think anything is dumb pls let me know so I can cry and then I can fix it, lol, thank you for reading.


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